


As That Of A Cannon

by mercymarsh



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky's POV, F/M, M/M, Pre-ocean FitzSimmons, Skye is a badass, Skye's POV, Soon after Winter Soldier, Trip is not dead, clint's pov, i started writing this in 2014 so be nice, i was a child then
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:10:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4403861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercymarsh/pseuds/mercymarsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lost and confused Bucky Barnes stumbles across the bus and its inhabitants in the remote reaches of Canada. Skye sees him first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Touch Lola

It started out as a rather dull day on the Bus. May and Coulson had gone to conference with what was left of the Avenger Initiative (i.e. May was teaching them Tai Chi). They’d left Jemma and Fitz to examine a rather odd substance that had been found drifting about the shores of the Potomac after the fall of the Triskelion. Trip was keeping an eye on things from the cockpit, and Skye was sitting on a counter in the lab, watching Fitzsimmons work.

“So, like, is it dangerous?”

“It’s not radioactive, thank heavens, or 80% of the capital city would be… er, sick… but it could still be dangerous otherwise,” Jemma answered Skye.

“If it is, we’ll still have a good number of hospital calls,” Fitz continued, flicking his holograms about.

“We’re running a retrograde taxiscan on it. Hopefully we’ll recognize what it identifies,” Jemma explained.

“I love you both to death, but I still have no idea what you’re saying,” Skye said.

“You want to?” Fitz asked Jemma, as he was still messing with the molecular models on his holotable.

“Of course,” she answered, and then told Skye, “a retrograde taxiscan identifies every known particle in the substance and makes a list. Then it makes a list of all the possible combinations of those particles that fit the parameters we set beforehand. This time we set it to check for any bioweapons, poisons, or combustible molecular compounds.”

“I think I got it. So then are we—” Skye’s new question was interrupted by a sudden bang on the ramp door. Her eyebrows furrowed as Jemma jumped and Leo’s head snapped around to check for impending doom.

“Ugh. I thought we were done with invaders,” Skye muttered, annoyed. “Hey, Trip!”

“Trip here,” he replied through the PA.

“You got anything outside the ramp door? We just heard a bang.”

Trip checked the new camera set outside the bay door. The screen showed nothing but grass. “I got nothing. Whatever it was is either gone or really good at not being seen.”

“Okay. We’ll let you know if anything—” Skye was again interrupted by the same noise. “Can’t this thing let me finish my sentences?” she mused. “Trip, we just heard it again.”

Trip still had nothing on the feed.

“I still got nothing on the feed.”

“Huh. Fitz, gimme an Icer.”

“Skye, are you insane?” Leo argued.

“Yeah. What of it? Can I go find out what this noise is or not?”

Leo and Jemma rolled their eyes. Leo reluctantly handed over a former Night-Night Gun. “You might wanna hide,” Skye said, powering up the gun. She crept through the lab door to hide behind Lola.

“Trip, on my mark, open the bay door like 3 feet or so.”

“Uh, what? You want me down there, or—” Triplett replied confusedly.

“Nah, I got it. I have a night-n— an Icer. I’ll be fine. I’m channeling my inner May.”

“Skye, you’re crazy.”

“They keep telling me that, and here I am. Just open the door when I tell you.”

“All right. Just say when.”

Skye continued creeping past Lola and the minibus until she was hidden in the nook beside the door. “Okay, Trip. Now.” She held her Icer up like May did when hiding.

“Opening now,” Trip assured her. The door opened slightly. Bright sunlight streamed in through the aperture.

“State your name, rank, and intention. I’m armed and extremely dangerous,” Skye called out to the intruder.

“Um, Bucky, Former Sergeant, help?” came a tired and confused voice.

“Full name, Mr. Bucky,” Skye replied skeptically. The voice sighed.

“James Buchanan Barnes. I’m a friend of Steve’s?”

“That sounded like a question. Agent Skye here, and I’m gonna need more than a name and a questionable association before I let you in, Mr. Barnes.”

“Wait, James Buchanan Barnes?” Trip boomed over the PA.

“Trip, shut up, I’m in the middle of an interrogation!”

“Skye, James Buchanan Barnes fought with granddaddy in the war. This guy must be a grandkid or something. Whoever he is, I’m betting he’s a friendly.”

“Ugh, fine,” Skye sighed, “Mr. Barnes, I’m going to have the bay door opened all the way. You can come in, but try anything funny and I will not hesitate to use this… Icer.”

Skye stayed hidden next to the now-opening door. Fitz and Simmons peeked up from behind the counters. “You better be right about this,” Skye whispered to Trip. “I’m going radio silent. I’ll come get you in a few.”

The metallic sound of uneven footsteps on the ramp came slowly, as if this Buck Rogers person was apprehensive about getting on the Bus. Skye didn’t blame him. He’d have more than just sassy threats to deal with if he tried anything funny.

Bucky glanced around at every nook as he walked up the ramp. He didn’t want a fight; he was just here for help finding Steve. Getting the gash in his leg sewn up and his left arm fixed would be extra fluff. He wondered if these people were high enough clearance to even know about the Winter Soldier. Although, after the events of DC, Bucky figured that almost everyone knew. But that was over now. He was Bucky, not the Winter Soldier. He was James Buchanan Barnes, like he had told Agent Skye.

Skye was quite confident in her ability to keep the upper hand in this situation. That is, until she saw the metal arm. Oh my God, she thought. We’re his mission, and we’re all dead. Noticing that Fitz and Simmons were now almost standing from curiosity and therefore vulnerable, she took action.

“Fitzsimmons, get down, now!” she yelled. Jemma and Leo ducked behind the lab table as Skye jumped out from her hiding spot, Icer loaded and pointed at the Winter Soldier.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded. Her heart was racing, the adrenaline surging, forcing her to keep her gun locked on target.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Bucky said quickly, raising his hands in the traditional surrender position. His eyes locked on the barrel of the gun pointed at him. “I just want to know where Steve is. And I’m not the Winter Soldier.”

“Could’ve fooled me with that big metal arm. That a Soviet star?” Skye questioned.

“Yes, I was the Winter Soldier, but I’m not anymore. Hydra’s gone, so is he. My name’s Bucky, just like I told you.”

“Well, pal, sorry to tell you this, but Hydra’s not gone. And we don’t have any Steve on board.”

“I know. Hydra always grows back or whatever. And I figured Steve wouldn’t be here. I just needed a place to hide until I can find him myself.” Bucky breathed heavily, trying not to pass out from both the river of blood going down his leg and the extreme vulnerability he felt at the moment.

“Find him and then do what? Who the hell is this Steve person anyway?” Skye was having little trouble maintaining an intimidating persona.

“Steve Rogers? Captain America, Avengers, World War II, just took down the Triskelion in DC a while ago. Never heard of him?”

Skye glared. “I know who Steve Rogers is. Why the hell are you trying to find him?”

“I just… need to find him,” Bucky admitted. This woman probably wouldn’t take kindly to dishonesty.

“What, so you can kill him? No way. I’m not helping you murder Coulson’s idol.” Oops. Let that one slip.

“I swear I don’t want him dead. That’s the opposite of what I want. Please. Look, I did a lot of awful things as the Winter Soldier, but that’s not who I am now. Steve and I were best friends. I need to make sure he’s okay and I need him to know that it’s me and not…” Bucky pleaded. As he thought about Steve and all the things Hydra had made him do, his bottom lip began to quiver. Shit. He clenched his jaw and prolongedly blinked. 

His eyes met Skye’s. They closely resembled the eyes of a lost puppy, and she had to look away or risk melting where she stood. Ward was Hydra; this guy… maybe not. Trying not to look at his raggedy hair or anything else that could lead her back to his eyes, her eyes fell to his left leg.

“God, you’re bleeding.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed with relief, almost smiling.

“Jemma! Get the first aid kit,” Skye ordered, and then holstered her Icer. “Fine. Get in the lab,” she told him, almost smiling too.

“Thank you,” Bucky said.

Skye narrowed her eyes. His left hand was within inches of Coulson’s most recent paint job. “Don’t touch Lola.”


	2. In Which Jemma Is Cute And Fitz Is A Fangirl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets help. He's grateful but also kind of scared.

“I’m Jemma Simmons, biochem, this is Leo Fitz, tech,” Jemma presented cheerfully, “Just let me get some anesthetic—”

“No!” Bucky said. The other inhabitants of the room jumped. Skye’s hand flew to her holster.

“Just do what you have to without it.”

“Okay,” Jemma replied. It seemed like she understood. Maybe the others would too.

“Fitz, why don’t you check his arm out?” Jemma asked. Skye sat on a table opposite Bucky, studying him. Fitz grabbed a tablet off one of the dozens of shelves in the lab and walked over to Bucky’s left. A yellow light came from the top of the thing, which Bucky supposed was a scan of some sort.

“It’s titanium adamantium. Don’t know how it works, didn’t ask.”

“It’s amazing,” Fitz marveled. He stood staring at the arm in awe until Skye hopped off the counter and snapped her fingers in his face.

“Fitz. You can fangirl later.”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just… this craftsmanship. It’s beautiful.”

“Fucking fantastic. Can you fix it?” Bucky asked.

“Maybe. I think I can. Course I can.”

“That means yes, just give him an hour or so. We’ve had tougher jobs than this with shorter deadlines,” Jemma assured him cheerily. “Now let’s look at that leg of yours.” Jemma lifted up his leg gently and, putting it on the table, examined it. “Skye, I need scissors, neosporin, sanitized medical needle, and thread.”

Skye brought her the scissors and neosporin and then began to sanitize the needle and thread. Jemma gingerly snipped open the left leg of Bucky’s pants below the knee to get a better look at his wound. She grimaced.

“That bad, huh?” Bucky asked.

“Mr. Barnes—”

“Bucky.”

“Bucky. I’ve performed ocular surgery on a conscious subject. This is not the worst I’ve seen by far. How did you cut yourself?”

“Wandering around the woods half-starved and completely dehydrated—ah—” He grimaced as Jemma sanitized the wound. “—isn’t great for coordination.”

“Meaning?” Skye wondered.

“I tripped and cut my leg on a fallen tree.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

There was a rather awkward silence as Jemma finished cleaning Bucky’s leg. She then threaded the needle.

“This is probably going to be quite painful,” Jemma warned sympathetically.

“Just do it. I’ve had worse.” Bucky closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. _I’ve done worse_.

Skye stared at his face. Striking blue eyes, chapped lips, small cuts in multiple places, scraggly beard, all outlined by a tangled mess of hair. She’d been so quick to trust him, which was super weird considering the number of betrayals she’d gone through in the past few weeks. Garrett, Sitwell, Ward… bleh. She pushed away the thought and suddenly remembered that Trip was still clueless in the cockpit. She’d been so caught up with the Win— _Bucky_ —that she’d completely forgotten to go get him.

“I’m going to go get Trip. And you some water.”

“Trip?” Bucky asked.

“Antoine Triplett. He’s the one that convinced me to let you in. His grandfather was in your division in the war,” she explained, sliding off the counter. “Be right back.”

Trip was on his way to the lab when Skye met him.

“There you are. You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, sorry. This new guy has a huge gash in his leg and Fitz is fangirling over his arm and–”

“His arms? Are they like Barton’s?” Trip asked.

“Uh, not quite,” Skye replied. After getting a cup of water, she and Trip walked to the lab door where she stopped.

“Problem?” Trip inquired.

“No. Just… don’t freak out,” Skye said. Trip raised his eyebrows. “And give me your gun,” she continued.

“What am I going to find in there that’ll make me wanna shoot it?” he asked.

“Something you really don’t want to find and really do want to shoot, probably.” Trip shook his head, confused, but handed over his gun.

“No freaking out,” Skye reminded him, and opened the door. Trip stepped inside.

“Mr. Barnes?” he called. Bucky turned his head.

“Hello.”

“I’m Trip. My granddaddy was a Howling Commando. Gabriel Jones.”

“Gabe…” Bucky closed his eyes, trying to remember the other Howling Commandos.

“You named after your grandfather?” Trip asked.

“Gabe! Oh, I remember Gabe.” Bucky smiled, genuinely.

“You remember him? From stories or like, what?” Trip asked, confused. Skye decided to let Bucky explain himself.

“Uh, no. I know—knew him. We were good friends. He took a punch from some Nazis for trying to stop Zola from…” Bucky blinked and breathed heavily, trying to shut out memories of Azzano.

“Bucky.” Skye handed him a glass of water.

“Thanks.”

“Wait, what?” Trip was extremely confused.

Bucky took a deep breath and turned to Gabe’s grandson. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I fought in World War II with the Howling Commandos.”

“You’re—what? You died! It’s in the museum, you died in combat in the Alps, with honors.”

“Oh, good, honors,” Bucky mused.

“You went to the museum?” Skye raised an eyebrow.

“It was my day off!” Trip protested. “Captain America’s cool. Superheroes are cool.”

Jemma scoffed playfully.

“Seriously, Skye, you don’t know who Bucky Barnes is? That’s like the first history thing we learn at the Academy. There’s a poster in every room.”

“Trip, you’re forgetting I joined SHIELD as a hacker and immediately went into the field. I’ve been to the academy exactly once. And of course I know who Bucky Barnes is, I just didn’t recognize you at first.”

“There’s—what?” Bucky asked. “Posters? Of me?”

“Yeah, man. They’re everywhere. Your name means dedication, loyalty, service. All kinds of great stuff.”

Bucky half-smiled at that. He wondered what Morita’s poster looked like. It wasn’t doing him justice if it didn’t have at least two swear words on it.

“Grandad used to tell me stories about you.”

“Oh no,” Bucky said.

“Good things. How you were the only one who could make Captain Rogers break attention, how you used to carve stuff on lighters. And how you were the only one besides Rogers who almost never got tipsy.”

“Guess now we know why,” Bucky said.

“Serum?” Jemma asked.

“Serum.” Bucky nodded at her.

“So how’d you do it?” Skye asked, leaning forward. “How’d you get Captain America to break attention?”

Bucky leaned his head back and smiled. “It was a lot easier than I’m sure Gabe made it out to be. All you had to do was get real close to him,” he beckoned Skye to come over to him, since Jemma was sewing up his leg, “stare him right in the eyes and say something like, _‘My name is Colonel Chester Ducky-Shincracker Phillips, and I am stark naked._ ’ while breathing on him.”

“Ew!” Skye said, backing up and laughing.

“He put up a good fight though, mostly. He’d clench his jaw and his knuckles would turn white, and then I’d finish him, whispering a sultry _‘Does that bother you, Mr. Rogers?_ ’ in his ear, all gravelly. He’d blush as red as the stripes on his uniform, and his mouth would curl up at the sides into this huge grin, and when he finally admitted to himself that he broke he’d double over laughing and yell ‘dammit, Barnes!’”

Everyone was laughing. Skye was 80% sure that this guy and Cap were soulmates.

“Oh, hey!” Bucky suddenly exclaimed. “How the hell is he here? How the fuck did he live this long?”

“Oh my God, you don’t know?” Skye asked.

“Hydra isn’t exactly known for telling its weapons about the survival and victories of its worst enemy.”

“Bucky, this might be hard to hear,” Trip said.

“I gotta know at some point, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Ducky shincracker is 40s slang for a good dancer. It’s both a silly word and adds to the image of dancing naked Colonel Phillips :)


	3. Non-Essential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky learns a few things.

“All right,” Trip took a deep breath. “After Cap lost you on that Hydra train, he spent a full day trying to get drunk. It didn’t work. The next day, him and the rest of the Commandos invaded a different Hydra base, where Red Skull was keeping his fanciest plane. This plane contained a few smaller planes that had missiles and he was gonna launch them and blow up most of the world.”

“Oh, God. This is the part where Steve does something stupid and life-threatening.”

“You know him too well. Anyway, Steve somehow gets on the plane, by himself, gets rid of all the pilots, and then it’s just him and Red Skull. Obviously he got rid of that guy too, cause they never found a body anywhere, but whatever. So Cap’s flying over the Arctic and the plane’s directions say it’s headed for New York. He radios back to the base, where Carter is, and says he’s gotta crash the plane or a lot of people are gonna die. So he smashes it into the ice, after much protest from Carter and others. Somehow he stayed in some kind of stasis until some explorers found him in 2011. He’s been awake ever since.”

Bucky’s mind was a rollercoaster. _Steve crashed a plane into a glacier? And lived? Why the hell would he do that?_

“Why would he crash the plane? Planes’ controls never lock completely, he knows that. Or he coulda dumped the missiles in the water. What the hell was he thinking?” Bucky asked.

Skye smiled sympathetically. “No one knows. You’ll have to ask him yourself.”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna kill him for getting himself killed like that.”

“There,” Jemma noted, taking the scissors off the table and cutting the thread. “You’re sewn up. Fitz, what have you got on titanium adamantium?”

Fitz was able to stop thinking about how shiny titanium adamantium was long enough to report that he could indeed fix it. Trip decided to return to the cockpit to keep an eye on things.

“Holy fuck, I’m so rude. Are you hungry? What do you want?” Skye asked.

“I don’t know, food?”

“That narrows it down,” Skye replied sarcastically. “You must have something you like eating. Chicken? Rice? Freedom Steaks? Freedom Cabbage? Beans? Hard tack?”

“Hard tack was a Civil War thing.”

“Oh yeah… I’m gonna go make dinner, somehow, and then I’m gonna hope you like it, kay?”

“That sounds great,” Bucky replied earnestly.

“Jemma, wanna join me?” Skye asked, hoping for some help, because the last time she’d cooked a non-frozen dinner meal was never.

“I’d love to, but I’m afraid Fitz won’t actually work on this arm if he doesn’t have anyone to tell him to stop staring at it,” she said, walking up to Skye. Skye agreed and turned to go to the kitchen.

“No flirting, you guys,” she ordered, turning to give them a fake warning. Fitz and Jemma both raised an eyebrow. Bucky just looked really confused again. Skye left them to their sciencey nonsense.

“What seems to be the problem, Mr.–sorry, Bucky?” Jemma asked.

“My metal arm feels weaker than my flesh arm.”

“Hmmm…” Fitz forced his eyes to move to the scan results, rather than staring at the shiny metal. “Can you still move it?”

“Yep.” Bucky waved “hi” to demonstrate.

“But?”

“Usually I could have ripped that bay door off its hinges. Only not today. I tried opening it to ask for help, but I couldn’t. So I had to knock.”

Jemma and Fitz exchanged contemplative looks. Then Jemma turned to Bucky. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

“One, two weeks? Three tops.” Bucky shrugged. He really hadn’t felt hungry for about a month. Fitz and Jemma exchanged looks again, more incredulous this time.

“Your metabolism is twice that of a normal human,” Jemma said. “By all accounts of normal science, you should be dead. From both that and the blood loss.”

“Huh. I haven’t really been thinking about hunger. More about–” he paused, surprised how close he’d come to telling someone his inner thoughts. It had been hard enough remembering that secrecy was something he himself could have, that not everyone had to know what he did or thought about 24/7. Now he realized he really didn’t have to tell Jemma what he was thinking.

“I see,” Jemma said softly. “Sometimes what psychologists would designate as non-essential can become more essential than the human’s four basic needs. It makes perfect sense that you’d concentrate on something other than food.”

Human. She’d called him a human. Not The Asset. Not The Soldier. No one had called him anything since April.

40s Bucky probably would have flirted. Nah, she wasn’t really his type. Besides, she was too cute to be available.

“The scans indicate there’s nothing wrong with your arm. ‘Course, I don’t really have any parameters, because I’ve never seen anything like it,” Fitz started, then set down his tablet. "Although, I do know that this thing is ancient. Did they keep updating it over the years or is this the original?"

Bucky shrugged as Jemma hissed, "Fitz!"

“Sorry," Fitz said. "Bucky, I think you’re just starving.”

“Well, that seems easy enough to fix.” Bucky began to get off the med table.

Jemma rushed to stop him. “What are you doing? You had stitches sewn up twenty minutes ago! They’ll snap if you don’t let them set,” she protested.

Bucky stuck his bottom lip out slightly and lowered his eyebrows in an attempt to resemble a kicked puppy. “I’ll be careful,” he promised.

“Aw, come on, Jemma. Let the poor man walk,” Fitz joined in.

Jemma sighed, exasperated. “I suppose I could get a wheelchair or something, so you don’t break the stitching.” She turned to get one out of the closet, and Bucky touched her arm gently.

“Jemma. Please.”

She studied his eyes for a few moments more, and then relented. “All right. But be careful. And don’t you dare tell Skye we had this conversation. I wouldn’t let her out of her room for weeks after she got hurt this badly.”

Bucky smiled. “Thank you.”

Jemma and Fitz each took an arm and helped him get off the table without putting too much weight on his bad leg. Despite it, he seemed perfectly able to walk gently without snapping the thread. They exited the lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I'm still kind of figuring this AO3 thing out, so pardon my terrible chapter splits etc.  
> -Thanks for the kind words! I will attempt to update semi-regularly, like every couple days or something? Who knows.


	4. Storytime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets some much-needed food and socialization compliments of the gang.

What was that smell? Chicken? It was strangely familiar. Bucky racked his brain, and again remembered: mom. She only made it for special occasions, like birthdays, Easter Sunday, anniversaries, or when Bucky enlisted, because it was expensive. Why was it this vivid? The memory was so close.

Of course. Mom made it for Steve a week after Sarah’s funeral. The day Bucky had finally convinced him to come have dinner with them. Steve had stubbornly refused the offer most days before then— _I can get by on my own, Buck_ — but he’d finally been worn down when the sink in his apartment had broken for the seventh time.

_Steve is in danger._

“Bucky?” Skye asked, sounding concerned.

Bucky opened his eyes. “I’m fine. Just… flashbacks.”

Skye nodded in understanding. “I made chicken!”

“I noticed.”

“Oh, um, plates. Ugh, I’ve never made food for people before, sorry. Hang on,” Skye said, suddenly flabbergasted. “Trip?”

“Yeah?” he called from the cockpit.

“Do we have any plates?”

“Do we what? Are you cooking or something?” Trip questioned.

“Yes. Is that so weird?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah it is.”

“Yeah, it is,” Skye admitted. “But do we have plates or not?”

“Probably in a cabinet. You know, the places people build to hold plates in.”

Skye made a face, but after bothering to open a cabinet door, pulled out five plates.

“Jemma, you wanna get forks and crap?” she asked.

“Of course,” Jemma said cheerfully and opened a drawer to find silverware. Skye handed out plates and began distributing chicken.

“I’ll take the smallest piece,” Bucky offered.

“You most certainly will not,” Skye replied. “Bucky, you’re starving. Eat whatever the hell you want.” She piled chicken and rice on his plate and divided the rest among the other four. “This is so weird. We don’t eat together. Like ever. Someone sit before I feel weirder,” Sky noted. No one sat. They just stood there looking more like visitors than people who lived on the Bus.

“Okay, then, I will.” Skye plopped down on the couch and looked around expectantly.

“Um…” Bucky started.

“Sit anywhere,” Skye said, answering his unspoken question. Jemma, Fitz, and Trip looked at him expectantly. Realizing that they meant he should sit down, he sat in a chair opposite Skye. Trip, Fitz, and Jemma joined them.

“So like, um, how did you find us?” Skye asked, swallowing some rice.

“It’s a bit hard to miss a really big jet,” Bucky interrupted his eating. “And the SHIELD logo isn’t all that inconspicuous.”

“I thought we were invisible right now,” said Fitz.

“I’m a supersoldier engineered by the Soviets. Do you honestly think I can’t see an invisible jet?”

“You ran into it, didn’t you?” Trip asked.

“No!” Bucky protested. “Maybe.”

“But how did you get to this valley? It’s like the most remote place we could find. There’s not a town for miles around,” Skye said.

“Small village five miles north. Locals said they’d seen a huge plane flying around.”

“Okay, storytime. How do you even know about us?”

“How do you even know about the Winter Soldier?”

“Answer for an answer,” Skye proposed.

“Deal. You first.”

“Okay,” Skye cleared her throat. “Coulson’s level 8. Or he was. Anyway, he’s tight with Fury. Intel ended up on the Bus and, well, I’m a hacker. It’s what I do. Then, of course, everything about SHIELD and Hydra ended up on the internet, thanks to Black Widow. Bucky, I’m pretty sure everyone knows about the Winter Soldier.”

“Oh, good. I was thinking I’d have time to recover in peace,” Bucky said sarcastically.

“Well, there’s my story. Yours would be?”

Bucky sighed and mentally prepared himself. “Well, after the uh, events at the Triskelion, I had to get away. Learn about myself. Remember. So I visited the museum, and yes, Captain America is cool,” he added with a glance at Trip. “It didn’t do much. I couldn’t understand much of anything. The 21st century is hard enough even without trying to figure out who you are. Then I remembered a guy Pierce mentioned when fellow Soviets lost Romanoff to SHIELD some years ago. Said she’d come out fighting hard for SHIELD when she’d been with this guy for a few months, so I found him.”

“Wait, Agent Romanoff was Hydra?” Skye interjected.

“You did actually read what she leaked on the web, right?” Trip asked.

“She was KGB. Barton was supposed to take her out, but he didn’t. More like he converted her,” Bucky explained. “Anyway, I crashed at his place for a month or so. He wasn’t even involved in the takedown of SHIELD and Hydra– not at first, anyway. He was off in the remote reaches of Quebec or something taking out a threat to SHIELD.” At concerned and confused glances from the four former agents, Bucky shook his head. “Never mind that. So I stayed with him for a little over a month, getting back memories, normal motor control, social skills, you know. Then, a few weeks ago, he got a message from Tony Stark. Sass exchange for the most part, then Tony asked if he’d seen Steve around, because he wasn’t at Avengers tower anymore and had left without a word. Hadn’t made contact in four days. So I decided to find him.”

“Are you guys like, a thing?” Skye asked.

“A thing?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. He was fairly certain of what Skye meant, but he wanted to be sure. And he wasn’t sure if he wanted to answer her question.

“Oh, sorry, that was super intrusive. And you totally don’t have to answer,” Skye started, reaching for a glass of water.

“She’s wondering if you two had a relationship other than being just friends,” Fitz said bluntly.

Bucky grimaced. “Considering the last time I saw him I shot him three times, I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, that can be kind of a turnoff. ‘Swhy me and Ian Quinn aren’t a thing.”

“Yeah. _That’s_ why,” Trip assured her snarkily.

“Not because he’s a corporate sociopath or because he’s tried to murder us all on multiple occasions or because he kidnaps people and uses them to achieve his ends,” Fitz said.

“Or because he nearly destroyed this half of the solar system because he wanted more money,” Jemma added.

“Ian Quinn? God, that guy was annoying,” Bucky said. “Pierce thought he was an idiot. Even Hydra’s interns hated him.”

“You worked for Quinn?” Trip asked.

“Only once. One of his super-secret chemical deals went sour and Pierce let him hire me to take out an entire mafia triad. With, um, handsaws.” Bucky grimaced. The four other occupants of the bus winced.

“Back to your story. You were… looking for Steve?” Skye said.

“Oh, yeah. Clint and I thought we should get a hacker.”

Skye raised her eyebrows.

“My original thought was the NSA, but then I figured they probably wouldn’t take kindly to the Winter Soldier waltzing in and demanding the location of Captain America. So we decided to find you,” he said, nodding at Skye, "who also didn't take kindly to the Winter Soldier asking about Steve."

“You realize there are hackers way better than me closer to where you were…”

“Well, none of _them_ had broken into SHIELD and the NSA before.”

“Fair enough,” Skye conceded.

“Tony tracked down the Bus. Wouldn’t lend me a helicopter though.”

“And you managed to cut your leg and not eat for weeks and then find us, finally.”

“Yep.”

Skye’s phone beeped. “Oh, crap.”

“What?” Trip and Bucky both asked instinctively. They glanced at each other.

“Coulson and May are outside wanting in,” Skye replied.

“Well, we’ll just have to explain calmly and not give them a chance to freak out,” Jemma said rather meekly.

“Right,” Fitz agreed.

“I’ll go get the door,” Trip volunteered.

“You’ll be fine. Coulson loves new people, especially ones with redemption stories,” Jemma assured Bucky.

“And May?”

“She’ll… probably not hit you as long as you don’t give her a reason to,” Trip called over his shoulder.

“Oh, good.”

Jemma attempted to smile at him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I KNOW making chicken usually takes longer than twenty minutes, but the Bus has fancy ovens that cook it in five. So there. Ha.


	5. Proceed As Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions and discovery! Also shameless gut-spilling.

May was actually very cool, Bucky thought. Or at least, she was okay once you got used to her resting glare. Coulson was at first wary of Bucky, but became more friendly once Bucky tried to explain that the Winter Soldier was a product of years of torture and brainwashing, and Bucky hadn’t remembered who he really was until Steve showed up again. It also helped that Bucky had started crying a little bit when he talked about Hydra’s treatment, and crying a little bit more when he mentioned Steve. Okay, a lot more.

He stayed with them for a few days, regaining strength, eating actual food, and making plans to find Steve. Coulson seemed keen to find him; for what reason Bucky couldn’t really tell, but at least it was genuine.  

“So wait, remind me how you knew Steve was in this direction?” Skye asked, resting her elbows on the table in the main room of the Bus.

“Once we realized he was missing, Jarvis did a search. His last known location was Lake Athabasca.” Bucky was sitting on a chair opposite her.

“That’s… what, 50 miles north of here?” Coulson wondered.

“My God, you’re like the map from _Dora the Explorer_ ,” Skye said. Coulson glared at her. Bucky wondered what Dorothy Explorer was.

“Yeah. I can probably make it there in a day. Two at the most.”

Skye just shook her head at him. “You’re ridiculous. You can’t go alone.”

“I can’t endanger anyone else, and none of you can travel 50 miles in 15 hours.”

“But you know nothing about where you’re going. Nothing about why Steve’s there or if he’s okay.”

“I’ve been here too long already!”

“You can’t just run into a mission with no backup!”

_“Yes I can, dammit!”_   Bucky stood up and slapped the table. Skye jumped.

“Sorry,” he said, looking down.

“It’s okay,” Skye said quietly. “Why are you so desperate to do this alone?”

Bucky’s head stayed bowed. “Azzano,” he managed after a long pause. “That’s what he did at Azzano.”

“Bucky,” Skye said, standing up and walking over to him. “You don’t owe Steve anything.”

“Skye,” Bucky said as his wretched gaze met hers, “I’ve tried to kill him twice.”

The gravity of his statement hung in the air. Skye tried to figure out what to say next, how to convince Bucky that Steve made his own choices, that Bucky hadn’t been able to, that none of it was his fault, it was all Hydra, Steve won’t hold it against you, whatever. But looking at his miserable face, his sky-blue eyes sadder than any she'd seen since Mike Peterson's, she couldn’t make the words come. So she did all she could: she slowly and gently put her hand on his right shoulder and stroked it with her thumb.

“At least let us get you there with the Bus. The textbooks say Cap had a transport from Agent Carter and Howard Stark.”

Bucky looked down for a long moment, then turned his head to look at her gratefully. “Thank you.”

Skye smiled back, gently. “Anytime, Frozone.”

Bucky looked at her, confused. Skye realized that Hydra probably didn’t need to show its victims _The Incredibles_. Good. Hydra didn’t deserve to ever see that movie and experience its perfection.

Also, she realized, her metaphor was terrible. 

“It was this movie, like ten years ago. It’s good. We’ll watch it sometime.”

Bucky smiled at her a little. Skye was so easy to get along with. Steve would like her. That is, assuming Steve was the same Steve Bucky had left all those years ago. 

“I mean, once you’re back with Steve,” she amended quickly.

“Right.”

“Ahem.” Coulson reminded them he was still in the room, as they’d kind of ignored him for the past few minutes.

“Oh, hey, uh—” Bucky started.

“Coulson, is there any way we can contact the Avengers? You were just there. Can you call Black Widow or Stark or Colonel Rhodes?” Skye asked.

“I’ll email Jarvis. He automatically sends out anything this important to all the other Avengers.” Coulson pulled out a phone and started toward the door to the medical bay. “In the meantime, you two assemble supplies for the trip to Athabasca.”

Bucky nodded.

“Wait a second,” Skye said. “Don’t the Avengers have communication earpieces? I know Agent Barton has hearing aids but don’t they communicate by the world’s smallest Bluetooth or something?”

“They have in the past, at least. What’s your point?” Coulson asked.

“If we can get the serial number and IP on that thing, I can track it. Assuming he still has it in, I could find Captain Rogers’s exact location in, say, 20 minutes.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. He’d pictured having to scour the landscape for any sign of an evil lair, but with Skye’s help, maybe he could find Steve twice as fast. He’d already been here longer than he planned.

“Fitz,” Coulson said to the air.

“Fitz here, what d’you need?”

“What do you know about the earpieces the Avengers use to communicate with each other?”

“More than you’d expect, actually.”

“Skye, Barnes, and I will be down there in a few minutes. Pull up everything you know about how to track them.”

“Yes sir,” Fitz said. “Oh, and Simmons needs to take Bucky’s stitches out soon.”

“Noted.”

“I’m going to go get my computer,” Skye said, leaving.

Coulson looked at Bucky. “We’re going to find him, Barnes. We’re going to find him, and we’re going to get him back.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Coulson paused for a minute, pondering something.

“Everything all right, sir?” Bucky asked him, somewhere between concerned and amused.

“I—” he started, closed his mouth, and looked Bucky square in the eyes. “I don’t know how to feel about James Buchanan Barnes calling me ‘sir’.”

Bucky tried to resist the urge to smile and failed. “I can stop if you like—”

“No,” Coulson said, almost too quickly, “On second thought, I don’t think I mind it at all. Proceed as before, agent.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I'm not shipping Skye and Bucky. Skye gets along with almost everyone, and Bucky needs support. It makes sense that she'd be that support, because she's a people person. They're just friends, dang it!


	6. Prep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and the gang get ready. They're gonna find him. Bucky learns more about Gabe.

“The earpieces operate on a sub-network frequency,” Fitz said, “Obviously one of Stark’s designs. It prevents radios and televisions from interfering so they can always hear each other.”

“And this helps us how?” Skye asked. She was leaning up against a counter across the holotable. Bucky stood next to her, trying to understand Fitz. He got the idea, but television was still crazy, and Fitz’s accent reminded him of a bartender in northern England from years ago.

“If I can isolate the frequency, then nothing will get in the way of us tracking it.” Fitz tapped the table with his fingers, calculating or something. “But, um…”

“But what?” Coulson said.

“These are designed to communicate with each other within a 15-mile radius. It sounds huge in theory, and plenty useful in combat or whatever—”

“But Steve’s won’t be transmitting, or if it is, we won’t pick it up,” Bucky finished for him.

“Exactly.”

_Fuck._

“So what do we do, then?” Skye asked.

“We’re trying to figure that out,” Fitz said, shifting shapes around on the screen. “We could modify a tracker to pick up tiny signals, assuming he’s still wearing the earpiece and it’s transmitting.”

“But the largest tracking radius we could get would be about 25 miles,” Jemma said. She’d been swiping numbers around on a tablet for the last few minutes, letting Fitz speak.

“Do better,” Coulson said.

“We’re trying, sir. There is another option,” Jemma said.

“Which is?”

“We contact Tony Stark and get him to amplify Steve’s transmitter’s signal. Or at least get better specs on the thing,” Fitz said.

“Hmmm.”

“How heavily guarded is Jarvis? I could try getting in and amplifying the signal from here,” Skye said.

“I don’t know. Stark hasn’t returned my calls yet,” Coulson said.

The group kept talking, coming up with solutions and more problems, and Bucky’s mind wandered. He hadn’t seen Steve since the helicarrier. Hawkeye had tried to assure him that Steve was okay, even though Bucky hadn’t wanted to see him—or rather, hadn’t wanted _Steve_ to see _him_ like this— but then Steve disappeared. Hadn’t even told Stark or Romanoff or Barton where he’d gone or what he was doing.

He should stop worrying. Steve would be fine. Steve didn’t die from pneumonia in ‘34, or measles in ‘37, or influenza in ‘39. He didn’t die during the war, and somehow, he didn’t die after. He didn’t even die when Bucky had tried to kill him. Twice.

_That wasn’t me. That was Hydra, or some version of me that wasn’t me._

Bucky would believe that someday, if he kept saying it to himself. Right now, he just hoped Steve would believe it.

“Bucky?” Jemma broke his train of thought with a small voice.

Bucky shook himself and realized he was the center of attention. “Sorry, what?”

“I need to take out your stitches.”

“Oh, right.” Jemma didn’t move. He realized she was waiting for him to signal it was okay. “Yeah, go ahead. Thanks.”

Jemma gave him a small smile as she helped him move his leg onto the op table. “You might feel twinges, but it shouldn’t hurt too much.”

“Are you okay?” Skye asked him.

“Yeah, I just got caught up in, um, memories or something,” Bucky replied.

“I think the word is ‘zoned out’,” Trip said. Bucky hadn’t noticed him come in.

“Sorry. What did I miss?”

“Stark won’t answer my calls or anything else. May and I are going to take a little trip to Avengers Tower to make sure everything’s okay. You guys are going to prep—"

Bucky flinched. 

"Bucky, you okay?" Trip asked. 

"Sorry, that's, um, kind of a trigger," Bucky started, "Pierce would always, um, say it, before... sorry, I—"

"You don't have to be sorry. It's not your fault," Jemma stopped sewing for a second to look Bucky in the eyes. "Coulson, don't say the last word you said again."

"I'm so sorry," Coulson said.

"It's okay, you didn't know."

Coulson started over. "You guys will get ready for a rescue mission and see if you can track Captain Rogers's earpiece. If May and I don’t make contact by tomorrow, go ahead and start looking without us."

“Yes, sir,” came scattered replies of multiple people.

 

—

 

Trip was very good at packing. In less than half an hour, he had assembled everything one might need on a trek in the wilderness, and it weighed less than ten pounds. Maybe he got it from Gabe.

“Do you remember your grandfather?” Bucky asked him that afternoon. They were in the main room of the bus, checking and rechecking weapons, foodstuffs, clothes, and espionage supplies courtesy of Gabriel Jones.

“I do,” Trip said, looking up from the Icer he was holding. “Do you?”

“Somewhat. I remember he spoke French. I remember he was the other one… on the…” On the train. On the train when he’d fallen. On the train when he lost Steve. They were supposed to get Zola that day. Bucky ended up with more Zola than he’d ever wanted.

“He caught Zola,” Trip ventured quietly.

“What?”

“My grandfather was the one that caught Zola on that train,” Trip said. “He didn’t know about you until he showed up at the rendezvous point with the guy. Grandad said they almost killed him. Phillips had to pull Captain Rogers off.”

Bucky was silent, but looked pensive. Trip was careful.

“Grandad said they all got blackout drunk that night, except for Rogers, of course. Every Christmas Eve, after the war was over, they’d get together at some bar. When I was little I asked him why he wasn’t home on Christmas Eve. He said that some of his friends had passed on before they should’ve a long time ago, and every year on he’d have to go meet Santa to make sure he knew to give their families something extra special.”

“Your grandad was practically a saint.”

“That’s what everyone said,” Trip replied. “I only saw him angry once.”

“Yeah?”

“It had something to do with SHIELD, I think. Peggy Carter came over to the house one Easter, and she and Grandad were up in his study for a long time. There was shouting. I asked him about that too.”

“Snoopy kid, weren’t you?” Bucky raised an eyebrow as he cleaned one of his knives.

“Damn straight,” Trip said. Bucky almost laughed.

“That was the last day I saw Aunt Peggy before Grandad died. I still don’t know what she told him, but if I had to guess I’d say it had something to do with you or Captain Rogers.”

“How do you figure that?”

“There was this angry wrinkle in his eyebrow he’d get any time someone mentioned either one of you in a way that wasn’t completely glorifying. Only Grandad and the other Commandos got to talk trash about Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. That day, he had it.”

“What would Peggy have to say bad about Steve?”

“Beats me.”

“I mean, there were some godawful things she could say about me.”

“Yeah?”

“Swearing, heresy, how I tried and failed to pick her up the first time we met…”

“Grandad did say you somehow beat Dugan at cussing.” Trip finished loading the Icer and put it in the backpack next to his chair.

Bucky gave Trip a wry smile, slipping a knife into its sheath. “What can I say? I’m from Brooklyn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kind words! It's an amazing feeling knowing that people like your work.  
> Sorry about the delay! Writing is hard, and I was gonna post last night, but then my internet decided to take a vacation. Also we've been prepping for company coming. Don't expect Chapter 7 to be posted for a few days, but it'll be out as soon as I can finish it.  
> Actual notes about this story:  
> -I realized that Trip never says his grandpa is Gabe Jones, but because I already said that in the first chapter, and most people just figure that's who it is anyway, and because they're NEVER GOING TO MENTION IT AGAIN BECAUSE THEY KILLED HIM(JERKS), that's who I'm using. I find Gabe a fascinating Howlie, even though he says next to nothing in TFA. I figured Gabe would be kind but firm, and a family man. And any mentions of Trip being at his house are based off of my grandparents' house, because I'm unimaginative and not an architect.  
> -Peggy and Gabe were married in the comics, but this is based on the movies, so they're just close pals and sometimes Peggy comes for Easter supper. Obviously close enough for little Trip to call her "Aunt Peggy".


	7. Kamwatan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team sets out in search of food that isn't cereal. Luckily, Bucky knows a place sort of nearby.

Coulson and May left before dawn the next morning, taking some of Fitz’s research about the earpieces with them. Instead of the large, threatening SUV, they rode in Lola. Coulson _swore_ it wasn’t to show off to the Avengers, but every single person—including Bucky, who hadn’t known him for very long—knew that that wasn’t quite true.

Skye had declared the day before that she’d grown tired of cereal for breakfast and was in dire need of an omelette. Today, they’d decided, because there wasn’t really anything else to do until Coulson and May either got in contact or didn’t, was the day they were going to find some breakfast food that wasn’t cereal.

Bucky had suggested the small village he’d found on the way in, and so it was decided. They’d put the Bus on invisibility mode and all taken a short vacation (after a long walk) to the almost-completely-unknown village of Kamwatan.

Bucky led the group to the marketplace in the center of town. It was bustling with activity: vendors calling out prices and products, some faint music playing in the distance, and there was definitely some haggling going on. It was loud and chaotic.

Bucky loved it. It was the closest thing to Brooklyn he’d had in forever.

“Oh my God, we’re getting more than just eggs,” Skye said. "It has been a year since I've had anything organic. Oh my God, basil! And mint!"

"Easy there, Blue Skies, we've got supplies back at the ranch," Trip said, putting a hand on her shoulder. 

"Jemma, wouldn't you agree eating organic, healthy things would be good for us?"

Jemma scoffed. "Of course it would be! When has anyone ever told you that eating vegetables isn't a good idea?"

"I swear, all I need is mint, basil, eggs, and maybe some strawberries. And raspberries. And tomatoes. Ooh, and maybe some kale and spinach..." she trailed off, wandering toward a booth overflowing with leafy greens. 

"I better keep an eye on her. You guys find some good eggs." Trip handed a ten-dollar note to Fitz, and turned to follow Skye. 

FitzSimmons had keen senses for good food. Bucky distracted himself while they were haggling by staring at some potholders. They were nice, he guessed. Suddenly he felt a tug on his jacket. He whipped around and saw nothing. 

"Down here," said a voice. He looked down and found a small girl, maybe five years old, staring at him with big brown eyes. 

"Do you remember me?" she asked. He knew her face, but not her name. 

"Yes, I think I do," he said, kneeling down to her level. "You were the one who gave me those hairbands, right?"

"Uh-huh. I'm Ava."

"Ava, that's right."

"What happened to the hairbands I gave you?" She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes.

"They broke," Bucky said, casting his eyes down in pretend shame and bowing his head. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Sometimes we're stronger than we think and we break stuff," Ava said. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked at him sternly. "It's not your fault your hair is so strong."

Bucky, resisiting the urge to laugh, smiled at her. "Thank you for understanding."

"You're welcome, Bucky Barnes." She nodded at him seriously as she spoke, eyes wide.

"Bucky?"

"Yeah?" Bucky looked up. It was Jemma.

"We, um, should go find Skye and Trip."

Bucky nodded at her. "Ava, this is Jemma and Leo. I've been staying with them for a few days."

"Are they married?" Ava whispered to Bucky. He let out a small laugh.

"No, not yet," he whispered back. 

"Hey, who's this?" a new but familiar voice asked. 

"This," Bucky said, standing up and turning to face Skye, "is Ava. I met her the last time I was here."

"Hi, Ava. I'm Skye, and this is Trip."

"Nice to meet you. Do you fall over a lot?" she asked, looking at Trip.

"Not lately." Trip smiled at the kid. 

"Bucky, we should go. We've still got stuff to do before tomorrow, and stuff that needs refrigerating," Skye said. 

Bucky nodded, then turned to Ava. "I've got to go now, but I'll see you sometime, right?"

"Yeah. Find Steve."

Bucky had forgotten telling anyone besides the agents about Steve, but apparently he'd at least told Ava. 

"That's right. You'll like Steve." Bucky ruffled her hair. "Goodbye, Ava."

"Wait! You have too much hair for hairbands." She grabbed his left hand. "But you need to take this." She reached in her pocket and pulled out a necklace with a small, white star on it. "It means good luck. Mama says it'll protect you from ghosts and the woods."

She put it in his left hand, and Bucky closed his fingers around it. "Thank you, Ava."

She just smiled at him. After a few seconds she turned and ran off somewhere, leaving the rest of the team hide their reactions to how goddamn cute that whole thing was until they got out of Kamwatan. 

"It's a bit small," Bucky remarked, looking at the necklace. 

"I can put it on a bigger chain if you want," Fitz said. 

"Nah, I'll just keep it in my bag or something. The last time I wore a necklace, I fell off a train."

They reached the bus and unpacked and repacked and made conversation, but for the first time in seventy years, Bucky felt a small glimmer of hope, like there was the smallest chance that everything could be all right eventually. He took out the necklace with the star.

“I’m coming, Steve.”

 

Far away, in the freezing dark, Steven Rogers shivered in an uneasy sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Kamwatan means "quiet" in the Saskatchewan Plains Cree Dialect.  
> -Ava is the fifth most popular name for baby girls in Saskatchewan in 2014.  
> -Skye is preparing for a recipe of basil-nectarine-lemonade, which is amazing, and you should try it.


	8. Breakfast at Tony's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone (Tony, Pepper, Clint, Nat, Bruce, Thor, Loki, Sif, Darcy, Sam, Rhodey, Fury, Hill, Jane, May, Coulson, and Fandral) has decided to have a big breakfast party thing because they can. Clint, however, has his mind on other things, like how Steve and Bucky have been missing for three weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Pre-AOU, so no Vision.  
> -If you think Fandral has a familiar voice from your childhood, you're right. He sounds like Basil Stag Hare from Redwall. Sorry not sorry.  
> -Next week, I probably won't post but one chapter because I'll be on vacation. Sorry! Tell me how annoying that is or how much you hate/like this story in the comments. I have like no motivation. Help.

“Sir?” Jarvis asked.

“Mmmmmm.” Clint rolled over in his sleep.

“Sir, you did say you would make some omelettes for today’s breakfast celebration.”

“Isn’t that sort of cannibalism, Jarvis?” Clint mumbled into his pillow. His bed was quite nice and comfy and he wasn’t going to give it up that easily. “What time is it?”

“7:00, sir.”

“Mmm. No.” Clint buried himself under his blanket.

“Sir, I must insist. Miss Potts has been up juicing citrus for an hour already,” Jarvis said.

“But she’s Pepper. I’m Clint,” Clint protested.

“And Miss Hill is Miss Hill, and Captain Rogers is Captain Rogers. Thor is Thor, and Lady Sif is Lady Sif.” Jarvis paused, considering the billions of options for what to say next. “I doubt Miss Romanoff would be very pleased with a man who went back on his word about making her favorite breakfast food.”

With a grunt of annoyance both at the fact that Jarvis was right and at the fact that he had only had three hours of sleep the night before, Clint rolled out of bed and onto the floor. After blinking very slowly a few times, he realized that he should probably put on some pants.

_Was that Once Upon A Time marathon really worth it? Yeah. Yeah, it was. Damn, that show is compelling._

Pepper was cheerfully bleeding some blood oranges when he stumbled into the kitchen.

“Morning, Clint. How did you sleep?”

“Fantastically. For all of the _three hours that your boyfriend let me_.”

“I warned you. I warned you both,” Pepper chided. “Twice.”

Clint glared at her and pulled a carton of eggs out of the fridge. He cracked two of them into the pan he’d greased and stirred them around with his whisk.

“Still doesn’t seem right,” he noted, eyes narrowing. “I haven’t heard from Steve or Bucky in weeks.”

“Jarvis, what’s your status on searching for Steve and Bucky?” Pepper called.

“Miss Potts, I’m sorry, but I haven’t found them yet. To be fair, I haven’t been asked to run that program in a number of days.”

“What?” Pepper closed her eyes and resisted the urge to break her juicer. “Jarvis, continually run that program until Steve and Bucky walk through the front door.”

“Yes, Miss Potts.”

_Bucky and Steve are going to be fine._

If only Clint knew that were true.

“Finest of mornings to you, Lady Potts. And to you, Eye of Hawk.” Fandral appeared in the doorway with a small cloth bag.

“Good morning!” Pepper replied. Ugh. Fandral’s dapper early morning energy only made Pepper more chipper, which was the last thing tired Clint needed right now. Aside from the fact that Prince Charming was being a douche to both his fiancé and Snow White and how much of a creepazoid Rumplestiltskin was, there were their missing comrades to consider.

Fandral pulled out a bowl and started to make his famous Asgardian pancakes.

“Hey, do we have any muffins? We gotta have muffins.” Darcy came in and peered around Fandral at his batter.

“I dunno if anyone’s in the mood for muffins, Darcy,” Clint grumped.

“That’s stupid. Muffins make everything better.” Darcy put on her red knit beanie and marched out the door. “I’m buying muffins. You can thank me later.”

Fandral smiled. “I admire that maiden and her tenacity, but what in Odin’s name is a muffin?”

Both Hawkeye and Pepper turned toward him and began to explain. “It’s… well, it’s…” They looked at each other confusedly. How does one describe a muffin?

_I am a highly trained assassin capable of shooting a gnat from a hundred paces. I also don’t know how to describe a muffin._

_God, it’s too early._  

“It’s a pastry that resembles a cake or souffle, sort of…” Pepper began. “You know what? You’ll see when Darcy comes back.” Fandral nodded in agreement.

“Sirs, ma’am, I don’t mean to rush you, but it is 7:45 and there is no fruit salad.”

“Jarvis, grow some hands and make it yourself.” Clint was done with life today, even done with someone as polite as Jarvis.

“Clint, be nice to Jarvis. He doesn’t get paid. Luckily, I’m done with juicing.” Pepper finished pouring the citrus juice into two tall glass pitchers. “Fandral, be a dear and put these pitchers in the refrigerator.”

“I would most love to assist you, fair lady, however, I happen to have exactly no idea what in Laufey’s left ear a refrigerator is,” Fandral explained kindheartedly.

“Oh, of course, sorry. See that big box?” Pepper said, beckoning to the fridge. “It keeps its inside cool, so you can keep food for longer than at room temperature. You can open it and put the pitchers in there if you would, please.”

“Will do, m’lady!” Fandral assured her dashingly. “What an odd contraption. Hmph, I suppose this is why we eat so much in Asgard. No place to preserve the comestibles!”

Just as Clint was about to break one of his eggs over both of their heads for enjoying life, one of only three people on Earth who could calm him down walked in.

“Clint, you all right?” Natasha, obviously still a little tired too, put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fi--” She cut him off with raised eyebrows and narrowed eyes. “I’m making eggs.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve made enough eggs,” she said, motioning to the foot-and-a-half tall tower of eggs on a platter next to the stove. “Come on. You’re talking.” She took his hand and pulled him to the living room, which still had popcorn everywhere from the Once Upon A Time marathon the night before. She sat him down on the couch and took a seat next to him.

“Is this about Bucky and Steve?”

“It’s been three weeks, Nat. Not a phone call, not a sighting, nothing. They could be gone forever, for all we know, but no one around here seems to mind.” He shook his head. “That kid was my responsibility. I shouldn’ta--”

“Oh my God, are you _angsting_? Clint, honey, that is reserved for Cap and Bucky. Coulson if he feels the need.”

Clint glared at her, even though she was completely right. “Jarvis, anything?”

“Nothing so far, sir. Although it has been only an hour.”

“Damn.”

“Forgive me, warriors of Earth, but am I correct in hearing that you need to find someone?” Fandral poked his head out of the kitchen.

“Yes…”

“I’m amazed I didn’t register this beforehand, but erm, perhaps once Thor wakes, we could take the Bifrost to Asgard and ask Heimdall to find them.”

“Heimdall?” Clint asked.

“Mightiest keeper of the Bifrost since Asgard was founded. His gifts allow him to see all-- well, except the Dark Elves, but I trust they are not whom you seek?”

“No, no. We’re looking for Steve and Bucky,” Natasha said.

“Oh, the protectors of the States United! Naturally. Well, I shall make our request to Thor once he awakens.”

“This is weird, though. Why the hell aren’t we assembled, taking over every camera in the country? What the hell is wrong with us? We should be out running around like chickens with their heads cut off trying to find those two, and we’re having fancy breakfast,” Natasha said. “We’re getting our asses to Asgard ASAP.”

“ASAP,” Clint agreed. “Breakfast in the meantime, I s’pose.”

 

—

Bruce, apparently, had been awake for hours, talking to Sif about Asgardian technology. Sam rolled out of bed about the same time that Rhodey, Jane, and Thor did. Loki had been up to watch the New York sunrise with Darcy (supervised by Hill, naturally), Fury walked in with May and Coulson, and Tony brought up the rear, having to be awakened by Pepper and Natasha and Clint and finally Loki (as an elephant).

Breakfast had been set out as a buffet on the marble island on the top floor. Thor, Fandral, Loki, and Sif had agreed to go last, since Asgardian appetites would most likely leave little for the rest of the tower residents. Clint didn’t have an appetite. To his chagrin, normal breakfast conversation occurred, as though Steve and Bucky were on their honeymoon or something, not missing without contact.

“So _this_ is a muffin! Fascinating pastry.”

“Like I said. Muffins rock like nothing else.”

“Are these actual blueberries?”

“Duh. What do you think of me, Stark? They were selling organic blueberry and cranberry muffins at the Farmer’s Market. How could I resist?”

“Son of Coul, was Tahiti as magical as Alfheim?”

“No. It sucked.”

“So like, you’re the Hulk.”

“Yeah. You’re the Falcon, right?”

“ _He knows who I am_.”

“I should’ve known Ward was Hydra from the start. That little asshat had no people skills.”

“Didn’t you draw a poop in that category on his review?”

“It was a porcupine!”

It seemed like a party after a victory to Clint, which made no sense. Why didn’t anyone give half a rat’s ass that Steve and Bucky were missing?

“Clint, why aren’t you eating?” Jane asked.

“I’m not hungry. Why isn’t anyone else concerned about Rogers and Barnes?”

“What about Rogers and Barnes?” Rhodey asked.

Hawkeye blinked at them. “They’ve been missing for weeks?”

“They’ve what?” Tony, sitting at the head of the table, looked shocked. Everyone else turned their heads to Clint, except Sam, whose eyes widened as he stared in guilty disbelief at his plate. Even Natasha looked surprised.

“They’ve been gone for three weeks. No contact. And someone’s been messing with Jarvis’s search program so that it hasn’t been running a lot.” He looked at Nat, who at first looked confused, then shook herself and spoke.

“Fandral has proposed we visit Heimdall in Asgard. If Heimdall can see all, I’m sure he can see Barnes and Rogers.”

“Wait, wait!” Coulson interjected. “We saw Barnes yesterday. He came to the Bus. He said he was looking for Steve. We fed him, fixed a cut in his leg, gave him provisions. Even tried to track down Steve. My team's helping him right now, as far as I know. Why wasn’t this the first thing I mentioned?” The new director of new SHIELD looked horrified. “ _How could I forget about Captain America?_ ”

Clint slumped against the back of his chair in relief. Bucky was alive. At least, he was yesterday. The feeling, however, was as short-lived as the muffin supply.

“Good news. Thanks, Phil. But we still need to get our asses to Asgard ASAP,” Natasha said.

“Asses to Asgard ASAP. Try saying that five times fa–”

“ _Tony_!” Pepper barked.

“Sorry. I was just–”

“ _Stark_ ,” May said.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Anyway, we can’t all go to Asgard. I move Clint and Thor lead a team,” Natasha said. “Thor knows Heimdall, Clint knows Barnes and Rogers better than most. Except maybe me.”

“I will partake in this journey with the archer.” Thor nodded solemnly. “Anyone else?”

“I’ll go, if you’ll have me,” Coulson said.

“Of course, Son of Coul. Others?”

“I’m coming too,” Sam said.

“Falcon! A fitting companion. Join us,” Thor replied, smiling. “Four is enough, I believe. We must leave immediately.”

Thor, Falcon, Coulson, and Hawkeye stood to gather away from the table. Natasha followed.

“Clint, I don’t know what’s going on. But I’m guessing none of us will remember about Rogers and Barnes when you get back.” Natasha swallowed. She looked the closest to scared she’d looked in a long time. She straightened. “Sorry. I hate forgetting.”

“Then I’ll just have to remind you.” Clint kissed her softly on the forehead. She wasn’t fooled; she knew he was just as close to scared as she was. They exchanged a knowing glance as Thor looked to the sky and yelled, “Heimdall! Open the Bifrost for me and my companions!”

All of a sudden Nat was gone. Avengers Tower was gone too. All was white and pink and blue in blazing streams of light, rushing by like a space river. Stars blinked in the distance, nebulae stirred, comets flew.

Then there was hard ground beneath his feet. His legs buckled and Clint rolled to the side into a sitting position. He looked around. Thor was the only one standing. Scratch that– there was a tall man wearing golden armor standing nearby, with eyes a fiery orange. They were pretty spectacular.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Sam whispered. “This is Asgard?”

“Part of it, yes,” said the man in gold armor.

“Oh my God,” muttered Coulson.

“Eye of Hawk, Sons of Wil and Coul, this is Heimdall, finest keeper of the Bifrost since Asgard was founded.” The three humans nodded at Heimdall, and Heimdall nodded back.

“Thor, you have returned much sooner than we expected. What reason have you?” Heimdall asked.

“We are missing comrades. We were hoping you could see them.”

“Who?” Heimdall inquired. Thor motioned to Hawkeye to take over from here.

“Steven Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes. Also known as Captain America and Bucky Barnes. They’ve been missing for a few weeks.”

“And you just now came to find them?”

“Yes. Believe me, I would’ve come sooner if Fandral or Thor had mentioned it,” Hawkeye explained. “Can you find them or not?”

Heimdall turned and walked to a huge window (or what seemed like a window) and narrowed his eyes. It felt like he stood and stared for hours, but finally he spoke.

“There.”

Clint’s head snapped around. The three others joined him.

“One is faded, the other less so. But both are in grave danger.”

“Where?” Hawkeye implored.

“Earth, fear not. Lake… Athabasca, I believe.”

“Athabasca…” Coulson mused. “That’s in Saskatchewan. I was there yesterday—what the hell?”

“Canada, yes.”

“Thank you, Heimdall. We will inform you after we find them,” Thor said, leading his compadres to a large circle in the wall.

“Do. Fight well.” Heimdall walked over to a podium-ish thing in the center of the room and, lifting up his sword, began to slide his sword into it.

“Hang on,” Coulson said. “Sorry. It’s just… this is super cool. Can you show me where Avengers Tower is in that map thing?”

“Of course,” Heimdall replied, slightly amused. He strode over to the window and narrowed his eyes again. “It’s right… there.”

“What is wrong?” Thor asked.

“It is there, but it is… foggy, as though something were trying to hide it.”

“You mean the tower’s not there, or you just can’t see it well?” Sam asked.

“The tower is there, but it is… difficult for me to see it. It is curious. I know it is there, but it is almost as if I do not wish to know it is there.”

“So how’s something trying to hide it?” Sam asked.

“I do not know.”

“Wait a second, wait a second,” Clint said. “This has gotta have something to do with how no one remembers about Cap and Bucky.”

“What do you mean?” Heimdall asked.

“See, I’ve been the only one concerned about our missing friends for these few weeks. Everyone else seems to forget about them within an hour. Does this, this fog, have anything to do with it?”

“Your theory is plausible.”

“I s’pose that’s a compliment?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“So what do we do about it?” Coulson asked.

“I wish I knew,” Heimdall said. “Is it wise for you to return?”

“We have to. We have too many friends in that Tower. And in Athabasca, apparently,” Clint said. The others nodded in agreement.

“Very well. I shall send you all back.” Heimdall slid his sword in the podium, and Asgard was gone.

 

 


	9. Avengers on a Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group returns to Avengers tower and decides to leave. Leaving, however, might be more difficult than it ought to be.

Clint felt sick. Besides the fact that he was travelling a squillion miles an hour through a stream of light that wasn’t as smooth as you’d think light travel was, there was also the so-called fog around Avengers Tower. He hated the idea of anyone in there being subjected to memory loss or whatever the hell was going on. And he hated the idea of Steve and Bucky being alone in the far reaches of a lake he’d never heard of. _And_ he hated that when he got back a) he’d have to explain things to Nat again and b) Sam, Coulson, and Thor wouldn’t remember the Bifrost at all. Damn fog or whatever.

The floor was there again. Clint rolled sideways and hit his elbow on the coffee table.

“ _Damn it_.” He shook his arm to try and get rid of the stinging in his humerus.

“You’re back. Where were you guys? It’s like, noon,” Darcy asked. Clint looked at Nat, who narrowed her eyes like, well, like she was trying to remember something.

“Asgard, don’t you guys re–?” Coulson started. “Damn, this stuff works fast.”

“What stuff?” Rhodey asked.

“Fog.”

“Fog. I think you’re thinking of smog. It’s like fog except more New York,” Tony said, “and more toxic. Or a big-ass dragon from--”

“Think about it, guys. We just went to Asgard after breakfast and now we’re back. We’re all looking for–” Clint started.

“Rogers and Barnes,” Natasha finished.

“Yes,” Clint assured her, smiling slightly.

“I remember.”

“Anyway, Heimdall says this tower is covered in some kind of perception fog. It’s hard for him to see us. I think it has something to do with how no one remembers about Bucky and Steve except me.”

“Perception fog, Hawk? Really?” Tony asked.

“No, no, this is starting to make sense.” Bruce stood up and took off his glasses. “What if this ‘perception fog’ clouds your judgement? Clogs up your mind with meaningless stuff and keeps you from concentrating on things you should be anxious about?”

“Exactly. I think it’s affecting Jarvis, too. It would explain this,” Clint said, pointing upward. “Jarvis, have you found Bucky and Steve yet?”

“No, sir, but I haven’t run that program for a few hours today.”

“This morning Pepper and I told him to run that program until Steve and Bucky walk in the front door. Now it’s noon and he hasn’t done it since– when, Jarvis?”

“8:02 this morning, sir.”

“And when did Pepper tell you to continuously run the program?”

“7:02 this morning, sir.”

“Like I said. It’s affecting Jarvis.”

“So what do we do? If the fog’s covering the tower, hasn’t anyone noticed?” Rhodey asked.

“It’s not real fog.”

“Oh.”

“And I have no fucking idea.”

“Oh my God!” Darcy suddenly jumped out of her chair.

“What?” Coulson asked.

“I remembered about them! This morning when I went out to get muffins!” Her eyes were widening with every word. “I was thinking about muffins, and then I got the muffins, and then I knew something wasn’t right, and I remembered! And I ran all the way back here to remind everyone about it and then I got inside and… I forgot. I thought about muffins again. Damn muffins.” She glared at a remaining oat bran fiend.

“Well, now we know what to do. We get the hell out.”

 

In less than five minutes, everyone had managed to gather supplies for a long trip to Canada, even Loki, who had been sleeping on the couch as a black kitten for the past four hours. Of course, he didn’t have much to carry.

Clint led the way to the elevator once everyone had assembled in the dining room. He felt no fear now, for some reason. Nat by his side, both on a mission. He hadn’t had anything remotely like a mission since before SHIELD collapsed. It felt almost… good. Natural. Like something was finally right. Of course, this is when things always go wrong.

Clint and Natasha, flanked by Tony, Thor, Loki, and Sif, took the first elevator. They were getting out of there.

“I’ve missed this side of you, Barton,” Nat said. “You’re pretty when you’re on a mission.”

“You’re full of it. I’m pretty all the time.”

“Clint.” He turned around to see her raised eyebrows. She hugged him comfortingly, arms wrapped around his waist.

“I’m really scared, Nat,” he whispered, returning the hug and burying his face in her hair.

“Me too. Stuff that makes you forget always gives me the heebie-jeebies,” she murmured into his chest. “But we’re going to find those two popsicles and figure out what the hell is happening here.”

This was so weird, being able to show affection in public. Every part of living a life of espionage should prevent them from even sharing prolonged glances unless it was for the good of the mission. It used to be so cut-and-dried. Now SHIELD was gone and everything was different. Clint, however, didn’t mind this kind of different one bit if it meant he and Nat could be together, and he was glad to have her with him today. Today was going to be hard.

The elevator slowed, then stopped. The doors opened, and Clint lingered in the embrace a moment before releasing Nat. She looked at him reassuringly and they stepped out of the elevator.

Everyone else gathered in the lobby after a few minutes, even those who weren’t coming on the mission (Jane, Darcy, Rhodey, Tony, Pepper, Fandral, Coulson, Hill, Bruce, and Fury) because no one was going to stay in Avengers Tower when it was giving them an hourly memory-wipe. Everyone on the rescue team had strategic value.

Thor: lightning, contact with Asgard, Mjolnir, biceps.

Loki: shapeshifting, magic, deception, and reputation that could allow negotiations with villains if needed.

Sif: fierce warrior, superhuman strength, and the only one on the team able to keep Thor and Loki in line.

Sam Wilson: Falcon stuff, morale, good soldier, knows Steve better than most, and he wouldn’t let them leave without him.

Agent Melinda May: Good in a fight, expert martial artist, espionage extraordinaire, plus Clint is intimidated and a little star-struck.

Nat Romanoff: duh.

Clint Barton: Archery and espionage.

Everyone staying behind was either backup in case things went horribly wrong (Tony, Rhodey, Maria, Bruce, Fandral, Fury) or because they were more suited to things that could better help the team from afar (Coulson, Jane, Pepper, Darcy).

Clint neared the front doors and, figuring Bucky and Steve could last a few more minutes, faced the group to make a short speech. He wasn’t good at these, but someone needed to be Steve, at least for five minutes.

“Okay, Avengers, honorary Avengers, and esteemed guests who inevitably will end up saving all our asses at least twice, today we begin two projects. One: a rescue mission to find Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers. Two: figuring out what the hell is going on with this building. Everyone staying behind, we’re going to need everything you’ve got. Coulson, contact Skye. See if she can break into some cameras or something. We need to know where to look for Barnes and Steve. Jane, Bruce, Darcy, your job is to find out what the hell this fog stuff is, why it’s here, and how the fuck we get rid of it. Stark, Colonel, Hill, Fandral, Director, you’re our backup. If something goes wrong, we’ll call and hope you make it to our location. Pepper, you’re our contact. Anything we need from anyone will go through you. Folks, tonight we dine in hell or something. We’ve got next to no time. Let’s move.”

Everyone nodded, and Nat raised her eyebrows, impressed. She walked up next to him and laced her fingers with his. “Nice speech, Barton. Let’s get out of here.”

Clint and Natasha led the charge out the door— or they would have, if the automatic doors had opened. As it happened, the Avengers and Company all crashed into the malfunctioning exit and nearly crushed Strike Team Delta. There was a great clamor of yells and grunts as all involved stumbled back, the momentum of rescuing their missing comrades and figuring out the brain clouds all but gone.

“Tony, what the hell?” Clint said.

“Don’t look at me! Jarvis, what the hell?”

“Sir, the doors appear to be malfunctioning. I can’t pinpoint what’s wrong with them but it appears for some reason your commands are not creating the correct reaction in the doors’ main cortex.”

“Fuck.”

“Fear not, Stark. I can simply break them,” Thor said. “Stand back.”

Everyone scrambled as far back as they could get, with Sif, Loki, Fandral, and Sam attempting to cover them.

Thor swung Mjolnir with a _whoosh_ and the glass shattered. Thankfully all were wearing shoes.

Clint turned around. “All right, everybody out.”

Everyone started filing out, carefully avoiding the glass as much as possible. Clint took a few steps and then stopped. There was a quiet sort of beeping invading his ears. He figured it was just a burglar alarm and continued herding the others out.

_Beep._

 

_Beep._

 

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

Fuck.

“There’s a bomb! Everyone out now!” Clint yelled.

“There’s a what?” Sam asked.

“A bomb! Can’t you hear the beeping?” He pushed at Nat’s back and dove out the door. Sam, Sif, Rhodey, and some others followed.

_Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep._

Jane, Darcy, Fandral, Melinda, and Bruce were still at the back of the room. They ran.

“Jane!” Thor yelled.

_beebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebeebeeeeeeeeeeeep._

There was a second of silence, and then the door frame exploded. Chunks of the wall crumbled and flew in all directions.

Cap’s shield would have been handy about now to protect them from shrapnel, but as it were they were all blown backwards 20 feet. Dust swirled in the air and fell all over the disoriented group.

“What the hell?”

“Jane!”

“Melinda!”

“Bruce!”

Figures scrambled to their feet around Clint. He blinked a few times and realized Natasha’s hand was stretched out to help him up. “Thanks.”

Clint evaluated the damage. The front of the first floor was a huge pile of rubble and shrapnel, extending 10 feet beyond the blast site. Thor had grabbed Mjolnir and was pounding at the rocks and crying out for Jane. Sam stood back, assessing. Loki and Sif looked at each other, deciding whether or not to stop Thor from breaking more bits of former wall. Rhodey, Pepper, and Hill were crouched over Tony, who was trying to sit up but groaning.

“How did you know that was going to happen?” asked Natasha, checking him for injuries.

“Heard the beeping. Security alarms don’t usually speed up like that. Didn’t you hear it?”

“Clint, I didn’t hear anything.”

 

“Oh, fuck.” Darcy’s voice pierced the black. “Jane? Jane. Jane, wake up.”

Jane opened her eyes to discover that the room wasn’t black at all. The lights were still on. She and four others were slumped against the wall of the lobby of Stark tower. She didn’t even feel woozy. “Is everyone okay? Fandral? Agent May? Bruce?”

“Agh,” Fandral replied. “I appear to be in good health, Lady Jane. However, this wall of rubble is putting a damper on things.”

“Yeah, that’s not our only problem,” May said, standing. “Banner, are you all right?”

Bruce coughed and breathed heavily, trying to lower his heart rate, but said nothing.

 


	10. One is Faded

It was cold.

Icy water dripped down from the lake above. It invaded every surface, covering floor and wall alike. The figure in the cell was curled in a tight, shivering ball, atop a bench in the driest place available, which was still damp.

It was quiet.

Despite the constant drip of water from the ceiling and clang of metal on metal from the breeze that swayed the keys, the inhabitant heard nothing. He could not hear the creak of the bench on which he sat, or his own breathing. He never heard any doors opening, or the sound of the shoes outside his cell door scraping against the floor.

Steven Rogers was alone.

He’d left the others days ago, or weeks, or months, maybe; he didn’t know. He didn’t know much else, either.

Steve Rogers knew two things: He knew who he was, and he knew that Bucky Barnes was alive.

In his now-silent world, the latter was keeping him breathing—even moreso than the daily oatmeal shoved through the bars at him.

Somehow, sometime, he would get out of here and find Bucky and make him remember.

He just needed a plan of escape.

Right now, though, he tried to stay alive and sane by shivering and replaying memories of his best friend in his head. They were all he had.

Steven Rogers, at this moment in time, was dying. 


	11. Middle of the Wilderness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and the AOS team get closer to finding Steve, but there's something off about his location.

Bucky was ready. Skye, Trip, Jemma, and Fitz had dropped him off about a kilometer from where they'd tracked Steve's earpiece.

"It's genius, really," Jemma had said.

"It's not," Fitz replied.

"He's just being modest."

"What are you doing?" Bucky had finally asked.

"I attached long-range scanners to the dwarves. Now I have to modify their trackers to cover greater distances—”

“So that we can still locate them even if we’re miles away.”

“And you can find Steve with those… dwarves?”

“Yep. As soon as I finish Doc and Sneezy, we’ll send them out to track his signal and then drop you off once they find him.”

That had been a few hours ago. Now Bucky was in the middle of the wilderness, using Fitz’s tablet thing to track the signal the dwarves were getting from Steve’s earpiece. He pulled Ava’s small necklace out of his pocket and stared at it. Maybe it would give him luck. He hadn’t ever really been the luckiest person: got drafted, got captured, got tortured, fell off a train, lost his arm, got captured and tortured again… and he’d met Steve, that damn kid who kept dragging him into fights back home. That damn wonderful kid who wouldn’t give up for anything, who didn’t give up when Tommy Dorcas wanted his lunch in the fifth grade, who didn’t give up when the Army didn’t want him, who didn’t give up at Azzano, who wouldn’t give up when Bucky was beating the life out of him on that helicarrier—

Bucky stopped, blinked hard, and allowed himself two seconds for overwhelming guilt before continuing on.

—and Bucky wasn’t giving up on him now.

He tapped the tracker and checked his location. Steve was, according to the map, in the middle of a lake. Perhaps that should have been strange, but Bucky figured he could be on a boat, or on a rock, or something like that. He’d figure it out when he got there in a few minutes. Putting the necklace and tracker into his backpack, he broke into a run. God, he was so close. Steve might never want to see him again, but he’d have time to deal with that after Steve was safe.

After a few minutes, he reached the edge of Lake Athabasca. The water stretched forever in front of him, rippling quietly in the dim light. The sky was overcast and the air thick but cool. A storm was coming. If Steve was out on that water, Bucky’d have to get him fast. He pulled out the tracker again as he walked cautiously to the edge of the trees. It said that Steve should be about a hundred and fifty yards in front of him, but he saw nothing. Just the same rippling water.

“Hey, guys?” Bucky asked the team as he tapped his own earpiece. Trip had thought communication would be a good idea.

“Trip here.”

“Uh, the tracker must be off, or Steve’s earpiece is at the bottom of the lake, because I see nothing.”

“Huh. Fitz, what’s up?”

Fitz came on. "You're not seeing anything at all?"

"Nothing." Bucky tried to ignore the nagging at the back of his mind. Steve is not dead. His earpiece just came off.

"Well, from what I know of the thing, it wouldn't be transmitting if it was disconnected from Captain Rogers." _So Steve is at the bottom of the lake._

Jemma seemed to sense his immediate despair and interjected, "But they're biologically linked to the wearer. They're also programmed to transmit a different signal if the wearer isn't breathing, so Captain Rogers is still alive. Don't worry." Bucky breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes.

“Bucky?” Skye sounded concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine. So what do we do?”

“Get the Dwarves to come back to you. I’ll send them new programming through your tracker,” Fitz said.

Bucky tapped the “return” button on the tablet. “Okay, which ones?”

“Uh… Sneezy, Doc, Happy, and Bashful. The rest will stay on finding Steve’s signal, but we need the four to figure out the schematics of this area. Sneezy will send out pulses to look at the ground and air. Maybe there’s an invisible building or something. Doc will check for any abnormal visual variations, Happy will, basically, smell, and Bashful will scan for anything resembling a secret door or whatever.”

“Will it take long?”

“To program them? No, this is their original programming. Once they get to you, it should download in a matter of seconds. Searching might take longer, depending on how well-hidden Captain Rogers is.”

“Sooner the better.” He didn’t have much to complain about, though, because the Dwarves appeared within seconds and took off again. The future was so fast.

“Now we wait,” said Fitz over the com.

“But it shouldn’t take too--”

_Beep beep beep beep._

“A-ha! Got it! Bashful's found something that looks like a door about 300 feet west of you.”

“Roger that. Ha ha.” Bucky almost laughed at his terrible joke as he broke into a run toward Bashful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaaaaaack! Sorry friends, college hit me like a fucking train (ha ha). Anyway, I'm home for the summer and hopefully can finish this thing by the time I head back to college so feel free to hit me with those pestery comments and messages telling me to finish this! Also apologies if there are inconsistencies as it has been two years (jeez) since I touched this.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first attempt at fic writing, which I started about a year ago, but just now had the courage to post. I suppose I'll try to update this thing weekly or something? Comments are much appreciated.


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